


The Elder Wand

by zzzzzzzo



Series: Harry Potter Works, all set in the same universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzzzzzzo/pseuds/zzzzzzzo
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts is over, and Harry is fully prepared to return the Elder Wand where it belongs. However, the wand is soon under a new master's hold, one who must perform one final act...





	The Elder Wand

Upon repairing his own wand, Harry set off immediately to return the Elder Wand to Dumbledore’s grave, waving Ron and Hermione off to meet him in the common room. Much as he wanted to go straight to his bed, Harry figured it would be most wise to dispose of the tool as quickly as possible. The last thing the world needed was the Deathstick entering another master’s hands. It was just as Harry thought this, that--

_ “Expelliarmus!”  _

\--the wand flew from his hands.

Harry whipped around, rapidly jerking his wand from his pocket. He stood with his shoulders set, tense, fulling prepared to take on whoever decided to carry on the Battle past its welcome. The curse died in his throat as he recognized his perpetrator. 

_ “Neville?”  _ Harry lowered his wand slightly, perplexed. “What the hell...?”

“I’m sorry!” squeaked Neville, twirling his newly acquired wand between his fingers awkwardly. “I just, well, I heard about this wand, and I thought… Well, I think I could, put it to use, maybe. Is that okay? Just for one thing, it really won’t take long.”

Harry furrowed his brows. Normally he would have refused, but something in Neville’s tone was strangely compelling. “Should I ask why?” he said finally, eyeing Neville suspiciously. It wasn’t as if he expected Neville to do something malicious with the wand, but then, he hadn’t expected Neville to suddenly disarm him either.

“Well…” Neville cast his eyes to the ceiling awkwardly. He seemed incredibly on edge, as if itching to go somewhere. “I’ll tell you if it works. I mean, I’d feel stupid if it was a ridiculous thought all along. Really, it won’t take long!”  
Finally Harry succumbed to that strange desperation of Neville’s. “Oh, all right. It’s not as if you really need my permission, you’re the master now. Just return it to Dumbledore’s grave when you’re done with it, alright?”

“Of course!” called Neville over his shoulder, already hurrying off. There was a stubborn purpose in his step as he strode rapidly to Madam Pomfrey's office. Beside the fireplace was a large jar of Floo Powder, set up for those with severe enough injuries that they needed a proper hospital, or those who simply wanted to go home. Neville’s voice wavered just slightly as he stepped into the fire, his nerves no doubt catching up with him. “St Mungo’s Hospital!”

Neville stepped into the lobby of the hospital, where several workers called greetings, recognizing him from his previous visits. A few people approached to exchange pleasantries, but let him off fairly quickly as it became apparent his thoughts were fixated elsewhere. His rapid strides carried him up to the fourth floor, and, at last, to a room he had visited too many times before. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to again.

Neville had eyes only for the two people farthest from the door, a woman and then, in the bed against the wall, a man. Neville looked between them uncertainly, his resolve beginning to waver. The woman was tearing a candy wrapper into small, precise pieces. The man stared fixated at some point in the wall, in the manner one would gaze out the window. Neither seemed to notice the teen’s entrance. 

“Well…” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Mum first, I guess.” What spell to use? He didn’t know any healing spells, and in any case doubted whether he’d be able to pull a new spell off. So he instead settled for a simple one. It wasn’t as if the attempt could hurt.

Neville’s hand shook as he raised his wand. Pointed it at the gaunt woman’s head, between her eyes. Whispered,  _ “Reparo.” _

The woman blinked. As if two lenses were placed over her eyes, the world seemed to erupt in sudden clarity. She stared at the wrapper with fresh awareness, amazed at how incredibly sharp and bright it was. Slowly she put it down. Why was she tearing into it? What a strange thing to occupy herself with. She brushed a lank strand of hair from her face, wondering how she had let it get so long. Her gaze traveled up from her lap, and she discovered, to her surprise, a boy standing in front of her. He seemed frozen, almost, standing perfectly still with his wand extended in midair. She eyed his face curiously, noticing with a start the familiarity in his features. She could see her round face and dark hair, and there was something else familiar about his round nose, and the stubborn cowlick sticking up in his hair. Those features… her husband’s features, she realized with a start. But that could only mean…

Alice Longbottom gazed up at her son, and recognized him for the first time in seventeen years.

“Neville?”


End file.
